Do you need a Code Language for Sex? Because your Toddler will say “Blow Job” when your Mother Visits

Finally I’ve found someone (besides me) willing to blog about their married sex life. Blogger Michelle Combs lets us in on her code language for sex from each era: before kids, during infants, toddlers, teenagers and beyond. Michelle writes:

If that had been my husband, his future spreadsheet would have been very easy to maintain.

The excuse column would just be ‘you used a spreadsheet to track my excuses’ for every date in the spreadsheet.

It seems to me that the spreadsheet couple is missing one of the key components of married sex, which is developing and understanding a sexual language.

This language is one that only you and your spouse understand. Kind of like the language that twins speak to each other when they are very small.

If you develop this language of love then communicating about sex need not require office accounting software.

This secret language isn’t as important if you are child free.

Child free couples can talk about sex whenever they like.

Well, within reason. Probably not a good idea to discuss it while attending a couples bridal shower or at funerals. Other than that, though, sex talk knows no boundaries.

Husband: Wanna have sex?

Wife: Sure, let’s have dinner first.

Then after two bowls of Lucky Charms are eaten over the sink you have sex whereever you want in the house.

Also, it can take as long as you want unless something is coming on TV that one of you wants to watch.

Plus, no worries about muffling the sound. Unless you live in an apartment, then you should probably muffle the sound a little.

We used to live in an apartment and the couple upstairs employed a very loud vibrator.

Frequently.

It was funny at first, but after a while, when we could both predict what noise the wife was going to make based on what speed they had their vibrator set, it ceased to be entertaining.

Having sex after kids opens up an entirely new language that you never dreamed you’d be speaking.

When your kids are newborns, it’s still not necessary to have a private language, but sex definitely changes.

The skimpy bra and panty sets are replaced by nursing bras and granny panties and the scent in the air is more ‘diaper pail’ than ‘romantic candle.’

Most sexual conversations are a variation of this:

Husband: Wanna have sex?

Wife: Fine. But I’m not taking a shower and I’m taking a nap when we’re done. Also, you’re changing the next 3 diapers. Oh, and get the breast pads, we don’t need another eye incident.

Having sex when the kids are toddlers is when the actual code words are developed.

Your toddler won’t say “hi” on demand, but he will remember to say “blow job” when your mother is visiting.

When my son was a toddler, he sat quietly playing while we watched a movie. There was no cursing at all in this movie, until one line, well into the movie, an actor said “asshole.”

My toddler perked up, smiled, looked at his father and said “Hi, asshole!”

No way he wouldn’t have picked up on the word “blow job.”

Husband: So, you wanna do taxes?

Wife: Sure, let me get the cracker crumbs out of my hair and see if all the toys are out of the toilet first.

Husband: Is he down for the night, or is this just going to be a Blue’s Clues?

Wife: Oh, no longer than a Blue’s Clues. And I better be halfway there before Blue finds his first clue.

The years between toddlers and teenagers tend to be a blur.

Mostly, sex revolves around those magical evenings when your kid goes somewhere for a sleepover, or when they get a cold and you can knock them out with kid’s cough syrup.

The opportunities are far and few in between during these years, because not only do kid activities eat up all your spare time, but they also develop a ‘mom and dad are about to have sex’ radar.

They probably don’t know exactly what is going on, but they do know that it is imperative they stop it from happening.

Husband: You wanna do taxes or whatever?

Wife: Well, you have to take Jimmy to hockey and then meet me at the school for Jenny’s interpretive dance and trampoline recital. They’ll both have homework and the trash needs to go out.

Husband: Sometime next week, then?

Wife: Probably. Dont forget it’s science fair week next week.

When they get to be teenagers, then the language can be more relaxed, more mainstream.

You don’t want to overtly talk about sex in front of your teen, but you do want to make the topic clear enough that you get to see them make horrified faces when they realize what you’re talking about.

Personally, I find vague comments about possible activities that have taken place on the couch they are currently sprawled on with their size-12 gym shoes pressed into a pillow will cause a 16-year-old to jump off the couch taking his smelly shoes with him.

Husband: Wanna have sex?

Wife: Is this ‘he just started playing video games in the basement’ or ‘sulking about homework’?

Husband: Neither! He just got in the shower.

Wife: The shower? Hell, I’ll go make us a snack and you can dig out the special outfits.

Those showers can take up to 45 minutes!

I’m finding that married sex has taken an upward swing now that we’re approaching the empty nest years.

We’re circling around to those early years when kids weren’t always part of the sex equation. The difference now is we’ve settled into a sexual groove and our language has a well worn patina that is both comforting and extremely hot.

The language of sex evolves over the years and can be spoken in nonsensical words or facial expressions.

We all have our way of talking married sex to each other.

It’s probably a good idea to leave spreadsheets out when you’re developing your own sexual language.

Michelle Poston Combs is a blogger who lives in the Midwest with her husband and her youngest son. She is at the precipice of learning to live with an empty nest which she finds both terrifying and exhilarating.

Her blog, Rubber Shoes In Hell, is where she writes about topics ranging from awkward conversations with strangers to learning how to overcome being an adult child of a narcissist.

She programs computers to pay the bills and counters this soul sucking endeavor by writing her observations on life, menopause, anxiety and whether or not she is truly on her way to losing her mind.

There is so much to love about this piece–I can not pick my favorite part. The hypothetical spreadsheet, the lucky charms, “Hi, asshole!” kids’ cough syrup, showers, snacks… What a gold mine of greatness! I keep rereading it and keep laughing just as hard–and even harder.

If there was a spreadsheet in our house, the most frequent excuse would probably be: “I ate too much.” But both of us are guilty of that one…